You're So Chattanooga, if...

You're So Chattanooga, if...

November 1st, 2013by Chatter Staff
in Chatter

The old saying goes, if you can't laugh at yourself, then there's no point living. Well, Chattanooga, here's hoping we can all laugh at ourselves a little. Our annual look at what makes us who we are-the quirks, the traditions, the downright dirty truths-offers some humor, some honesty and a lot of plain goofiness to get you thinking about why Chattanooga is the perfect place to live.

You're So Chattanooga, if...

You can whip through road construction zones like a speeding bullet, but choose not to because you don't want to squash those nice TDOT guys who work round the clock.

You want to commit a minor crime downtown just so you can see what the new, cute little police department on 11th street looks like on the inside.

You don't understand why they didn't just legalize hunting on the Chattanooga State campus.

You didn't want Cee Lo Green at Riverbend in the first place.

You buy Chattanooga Whiskey even though you're not sure you like it.

You refer to our senators as Lamar and Bob.

You brag about the city's fabulous symphony and art museum but never actually get around to attending.

You'll never admit that a Drake cake is as good as a Little Debbie.

You think the Delta Queen is a treasure. You think the Delta Queen is an eyesore.

You never had a problem avoiding state sales tax until Obama came to Amazon.

You've actually used Small Town Security.

You can't figure out what any of the downtown sculptures actually are.

You're a teetotaller but love that Chattanooga Whiskey got approval.

Your kids now think Jackie Robinson is from Chattanooga.

You think Allen Casey's barge is a bigger problem than the government shutdown.

You want to go up to Mayor Berke every time

You see him and push his glasses back up on his nose.

You blame all the state's problems on Lane Kiffin.

Your passion to have chickens in your yard outweighs your passion to vote in a general election.

You watch The Daily Show to learn about our legislative agenda.

You accidentally wore your zombie costume to the mud run one weekend and then mistakenly dressed as a pirate for the color run the next weekend.

You don't find it weird that the Aquarium throws fish dinners.

You brag about the city's fabulous symphony and art museum but never actually get around to attending.

You think the Running of the Chihuahuas is a legitimate sporting event.

You wish Volkswagen would make an SUV, because you're worried that potholes on I-24 could eat a Passat for lunch.

You've asked God to smite the Crimson Tide.

You've eaten fried chicken at a restaurant that's also an hourly hotel.

You count the number of burned out bulbs in the city's holiday décor for family fun.

You are proud your city has its own font, but wish it were more legible.

You wait in line for hours at every new restaurant then never go back after the excitement dies down.

You feel more qualified than any of the mayor's appointed cabinet.

You dress like a million bucks ... and do all your shopping at consignment stores and discount retailers.

Your Sundays consist of church, then Chattanooga Market, then back to church.

After spending years establishing a solid identity for your organization, have an "ah-ha moment" and change its name.

You hated Drew Johnson when he was here but loved him the minute he was gone.

You will never, ever refer to Greenlife as Whole Foods.

You voted for Andy Berke and think he'll make a great mayor even though you're not certain what he stands for.

You're willing to raise a militia to stop Georgia from getting the Tennessee River water.

You're glad the City Council voted against urban chickens because you don't want downtown to smell like a chicken processing plant.

You define the seasons as ragweed, goldenrod and hackberry.

You still call the Times Free Press the News Free Press.

Yes, you get it, the Internet is fast here.

You can't understand why your GPS mispronounces Olgiati.

You hate how the Southside has gotten all trendy - since you moved there a year ago.

You complain about the lack of ethnic restaurants here but eat lunch every day at Wally's.

You finally learned to pronounce Sesquicentennial, and now it's already over.

You get panhandled a half dozen times whenever you go downtown. Or to the North Shore. Or the Southside. Or Hamilton Place.

You're tired of hearing the Walter Cronkite story.

You refer to Boulder as the Chattanooga of the West.

You've worn Chacos to a wedding or had to ask a family member not to.

You feel like a badass anytime you avoid getting a ticket from the new parking regime.

You've known someone who waited two years just to get married at Patten Chapel.

You've seen local monuments like King's Lodge on an episode of Cops.

The City Council says you are. Ooltewah, Hurricane Creek, come on down.

You're on the paleo diet but you believe the world is only 6,000 years old.

You remember Eastgate Town Center when it was an open mall and there were swans in the fountain in the middle.

You support the separation of church and state but not wine and beer.

You were told your neighborhood would be the next North Shore when you bought your house 10 years ago.

It feels wrong to call North Chattanooga "the North Shore."

You smile with pride when you're driving the interstate and see a barn roof with the red, black and white "See Rock City."

You've never had a taste for alcohol ... publicly.

You can bond with any Chattanoogan within two minutes because you know all of the same people.

You can't schedule your wedding during football season because none of your friends would come.

You drive the kids downtown to see the Christmas window displays.

You're driving McCallie or Bailey avenues or M.L. King Boulevard and remember with longing when each was a one-way street.